Love under Fire | Page 5

up close to the carryall, and caught hold at the rear. The
soldiers back in the glare saw nothing, while the mingled noise of hoofs
and wheels left me unheard. I discovered my fingers grasping some
narrow wooden slats, held up firmly against the back of the vehicle by
a chain at each end. For a moment, running and hanging on as I was in
total darkness, I was unable to figure out what sort of an arrangement
this could possibly be. Then I managed to feel it out with one hand--it
was simply a shelf, capable of being lowered the length of the
supporting chains, on which packages, or baggage, might be carried,
while above was a roll of canvas, to be used as protection from rain.
Here was opportunity, and I went at it with eagerness. It proved a hard
job, running over that rough road in the dark, while the pony trotted
tirelessly, but I got those chains unfastened, one at a time, and then the
shelf settled naturally down into position. It was narrow, and I felt

some question as to the strength of the supports, but risking all this,
managed to work my way up until I half lay, half crouched, along the
slats, holding on grimly as the two wheels bounced briskly from side to
side, threatening to send me sprawling out into the road. By this time
the officer had reined back his horse, but was still out of sight, and I
succeeded in unbuckling the straps, and lowering the strip of canvas
over me, stuffing the edges beneath my body so as to keep them from
flapping. I was tired and sore, but now reasonably safe, with my eyes at
an opening through which I could gaze out. I began to feel happy, too,
thinking of the surprise which was about to come to Billie.
We clattered on down a long slope, apparently making no effort to
avoid noise. It seemed we must be drawing near the river, yet the night
was so dark, and our passage so rapid, I could make out no familiar
landmarks through my peep-hole. Indeed I had about all I could do to
hold on. We were halted twice, but a word from the officer passed us
along safely. One picket-post had a fire glowing in close against the
rocks, and the sergeant stood within a foot of me. I caught the word
"Cumberland," but whatever else of explanation may have been uttered
failed to reach my ears, muffled as they were beneath the canvas. A few
hundred yards beyond this point, at the end of a deep cut, the officer
drew up his horse sharply, leaned over the wheel, and shook hands with
the person inside.
"I have attained my limit," he said. "That was our last picket-post back
yonder, and my orders were strict. You know the road, of course."
"Perfectly, Lieutenant," responded a low voice, muffled under the hood.
"I have travelled it often before. I thank you so much, and think it will
all come out right this time."
"I have no doubt of that," he replied, with a little laugh. "Hope I may
renew the acquaintance under more pleasant circumstances. Meanwhile,
good luck and good-bye."
He sat erect upon his horse, watching as we clattered past, appearing
scarcely more than a dim shadow, yet I thought he held his hat in his
hand. Billie laid on the gad, however, as if to make up for lost time, and

the pony trotted off at such a burst of speed as to keep me busy clinging
to my perch. It was an exceedingly rough road, rutty and stony, up hill
and down, while the pony condescended to walk on the steepest grades
only, and occasionally took the declines at a gallop, the carryall
bounding from side to side as though mad. Apparently no fear of
possible disaster disturbed Billie, however, for I could hear every few
moments the slash of a whip on the animal's flank. I knew that, by this
time, we must certainly be well between the lines, but, for the life of
me, could not determine where. I thought I knew the surrounding
country as I had scouted over it for months, tracing roads and
bridle-paths, yet I was puzzled now. If this road continued to run north
and south, as it had back yonder, then we should have forded the river
long before this, yet we had splashed through no water, nor did I recall
our making any turn.
One fact alone seemed certain: as I knew neither where we were, nor
whither bound, and as we were already assuredly beyond the last
Confederate outpost, it behooved me to act as quickly as possible.
Billie was headed somewhere, and the sooner I